


On the Mountain High

by fembuck



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fembuck/pseuds/fembuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments shared between Saxa and Belesa on the day of the gladiatorial games in honor of Crixus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Mountain High

**Author's Note:**

> The story takes place during episode 3x09 "The Dead and the Dying".

The air was filled with the sound of the rebels who filled the stands of the decrepit amphitheatre the games were being held in.  It buzzed with a steady murmur of voices and laughter, punctuated by shouts, screams, and loud bangs.  Saxa closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of sweat and blood as the combined voices of the crowd washed over her, the mad, wild sound of it, making her heart pound beneath her breast and her lips curve up in anticipation. 

She longed to face the crowd and lift her daggers above her head as thousands of voices screamed.  She longed to spill Roman blood and hear Roman screams as the crowd roared their approval.  She longed to fight.

“You have already taken to the sands in your mind, haven’t you?” Belesa whispered playfully into Saxa’s ear before she nudged the blonde’s arm, encouraging Saxa to lift it so that she could secure a pleated leather pauldron to Saxa’s arm.

“See spilling Roman blood in mind, makes easier to spill Roman blood in life,” Saxa murmured, her eyes fluttering open as she dutifully lifted her right arm so that Belesa could tie the straps around her bicep.

“You sound as the gladiators,” Belesa smiled as Saxa turned her head to look at her, “wiggling like children in anticipation of playing favored game,” she continued, slapping Saxa on the stomach warningly.  “Still yourself.  The longer readying your armour takes, the longer the sand remains absent your presence, watering it with the blood of Romans.” 

“Then I will be as statue,” Saxa replied, holding Belesa’s gaze until the brunette shook her head at her and smiled indulgently.  “I would not deny sand pleasure of me walking on it any longer,” Saxa continued, smirking, though she was struggling to stay true to word and keep her body still.

“How thoughtful,” Belesa breathed out, and Saxa’s smirk turned into a grin.  

“Final touches have been laid upon masterpiece,” Belesa declared a short while later, taking a step back from her lover so that she had a full length view of Saxa.  “You stand as Diana, ready for the hunt.”

“No, Sandraudiga,” Saxa declared as she took her daggers into her hand, and made practice motions, testing that her armour was comfortably secured and would not impede her ability to move.

“Is that a goddess, from East of the Rhine?” Belesa asked softly, watching raptly as always, as Saxa moved, enjoying ripple of muscles the blonde’s motions put on display.

“Yes,” Saxa replied.  “Goddess that dyes sand red,” she continued as she sheathed her daggers, pleased with the job Belesa had done readying her for combat.

“That sounds like a goddess you would favor,” Belesa replied affectionately, stepping closer to Saxa again now that her blades were safely put away.  “Know that I long to see you make Roman blood rain,” Belesa breathed out, dropping her gaze to watch her hand as she placed it on the tanned flesh above the belt secured around Saxa’s waist, “but give your word you will be careful.  I would not see your blood spilled for sport.”

“I will spill blood only, shed none of my own,” Saxa replied gently, lifting her hand to Belesa’s chin so that she could angle the brunette’s head up until their eyes met again.  “I must put on show, but I give word not to be reckless in toying with food.  Good?” she asked, watching Belesa carefully.

“Acceptable,” Belesa sighed, before allowing a small smile to touch her lips as she leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Saxa’s lips.

“I would have more of that before I go,” Saxa husked when Belesa pulled back from her. 

Belesa smiled at her words, and when Saxa took hold of her hips and tugged her towards her roughly, Belesa laughed delightedly.  As Saxa’s hands slid behind Belesa to take hold of her ass, Belesa’s laughter turned into a soft sigh, and Saxa leaned in, capturing Belesa’s lips in a kiss that was as far from chaste as possible.

“Apologies,” a masculine voice interrupted some minutes later, and Saxa growled in irritation as she pulled away from Belesa.

“What?” she demanded as she turned her head to the side to find Gannicus standing a few meters from her, Nasir beside him, as he watched her with a large, amused smile.

“Lugo’s match has ended,” Nasir began as Saxa rolled her eyes at Gannicus.  “The crowd awaits your presence,” he continued, as Saxa bared her teeth at Gannicus drawing a hearty laugh from him.

“I think she would rather roll upon the sands with her girl than fight on them,” Gannicus declared, grinning at Belesa before returning his gaze to Saxa.

“Come closer, we see my mood then Smiley Fool,” Saxa replied, unsheathing her daggers and Gannicus laughed again.

“Then I keep my distance.  I take to the sands again upon an hour,” Gannicus replied, holding up his hands in peace, “and would not perish before sending more Romans to the afterlife.”

“Finally he speak words of sense,” Saxa responded, grinning at Gannicus as she sheathed her daggers once again.  “Take me to Romans,” Saxa said, directing her attention towards Nasir.  “I would have them wait for death no more.”

“A sentiment heartily shared,” Nasir replied, unconsciously tightening his fist around the spear he held at his side.

“I go now,” Saxa breathed out, turning her attention to Belesa once more.

“I would wish you luck, but I know you shall not need it,” Belesa replied softly, smiling over at Saxa sweetly, when the blonde reached out to stroke her cheek gently with the backs of her fingers.  “Go, paint the sand Sandraudiga.  Then return and claim your victors prize,” she continued, smirking as she brought her hands to her breasts and propped them up, presenting them to Saxa, much as she had done the day they had met.

Saxa grinned wickedly at her, and with a delighted laugh she drew Belesa into one last kiss.

“You will watch?” Saxa asked her, wanting to make sure.

“Every moment,” Belesa promised.  “Now go, the crowd awaits,” she said, giving Saxa a little shove on the bum in the right direction.

Saxa glared at her for a moment in response, but Belesa was unperturbed by the look and when she gently shoved Saxa in the direction of the men again, Saxa grumbled something in German but finally began walking towards them.

xxx

Saxa already stood beside Spartacus on the sand when Belesa made it into the stands and took a seat beside her friends, Nadeae and Antheia, but she had not missed any of the fight, which she was glad of. 

“Your woman looks in fine form,” Nadeae said the moment Belesa took her seat.  “The new armour suits her.”

“None in the heavens or below could dispute your words,” Belesa agreed with a giggle, smiling proudly as her eyes fell upon Saxa.  “However, after contest I would see new armour to ground, and enjoy the other physical talents such a fine form is capable of,” she continued slyly, her smile growing as her friends giggled in response to her words.

“You play coy, Bel.  Holding particulars to breast like precious gold.  Yet, your blush and smile betray the scintillating details you so cruelly hold from loving friends,” Nadeae said, leaning in closer to Belesa as Spartacus made motion for Nasir to bring one of the Roman’s forward.  “Allow us to share in joy, and finally form words to illuminate subject of whether she fucks as fiercely as she fights.”

“It is enough for friends to know that she is as skilled in the arts of love as she is in the arts of war,” Belesa replied, giving Nadeae a warning look.  “Take joy in knowing that treasured friend is well cared for in all regards, body and heart tended to with equal care and passion,” she continued softly, and Nadeae sighed and slumped back in her seat morosely, still disappointed with the lack of details.

“Happiness is well deserved,” Antheia murmured from the other side of Belesa, looping her arm through Belesa’s and kissing her bare shoulder lightly.  “And privacy will be respected,” she continued, narrowing her eyes at Nadeae, who pouted but said nothing.  “Your words ring with truth.  It is enough to know that cherished friend is content.”

“Gratitude,” Belesa said softly, leaning her head to the side to rest against Antheia’s for a few moments before she turned to Nadeae and murmured, “And to you too, for continued, if somewhat overcurious, support.  Naughty thing,” she laughed, tapping Nadeae’s nose playfully.

Nadeae smiled in response and Belesa laughed, however, before further words could be shared, the amphitheatre erupted into shouts and applause and Belesa quickly turned her attention to sand where Saxa stood with her arms thrust in the air.

When the fighting commenced, and Belesa’s heart began to pound wildly with anxiety, she was glad for the comfort of Antheia’s body pressed against her side.  She had seen Saxa training with the other fighters, but she had never seen Saxa truly fight before, she had never seen her in honest combat.  From the training she had watched, Belesa knew that Saxa was a gifted fighter, and fierce as any warrior that fought with the rebels, but sitting in the stands, watching Saxa fight someone who was genuinely trying to kill her, was an entirely new and harrowing experience for Belesa.

“She fights as if possessed,” Nadeae said, watching as Saxa kicked the Roman to the ground and then screamed in his face when he tried to stand, grabbing his hair a moment later so that she could better drive her knee into his chin, which sent him sprawling back in the sand once again.

“She is possessed,” Belesa breathed out, “by the spirit of a great goddess from East of the Rhine.  She stands as Sandraudiga, dying the sand red,” she continued adoringly, though only for a moment, because her heart to leap into her throat a second later when the Roman, now on his feet, lunged at Saxa with murderous intent.

His lumbering strength was no match for Saxa’s agility however, and she rolled easily away from the attack before coming at the man from behind, launching herself at his back.

“By the gods!” Belesa exclaimed in alarm as the man screamed in rage, and reared back ferociously, his violent movements forcing Saxa to lock her legs around him in order to ride out his forceful protests.

Antheia pressed closer to her, and Belesa was grateful for it, even though her heart continued to pound as madly as it had been before.

Saxa laughed madly to the roar of the crowd as she rode the man as she would an unruly horse, and when the stress of her weight bearing down on him finally began to wear him out, Saxa pressed the advantage, slipping onto his shoulders as he bent at the waist.  

The Roman tried to buck her again, her new position on him less secure than the one she had been in before, but he was too tired to put much force into it. 

Saxa was in charge now, and with him struggling uselessly before her, caught in her web, she drew her dagger up.

The crowd cheered wildly.

She brought it down into his neck with a victorious scream.

The crowd cheered louder.

She pulled her dagger out of his neck, unreleased a spray of blood, and then she drove the dagger back in, again and again until the Roman fell to the ground once more, never to rise again.

“Thank the gods!” Belesa sighed in relief, her lips curving up into a smile as her heart finally began to claim.

“Praise them,” Nadeae added, giving a mighty yell along with the rest of the crowd in honor of Saxa’s fine effort.  “She lives to mount you again,” she teased a second later, winking as she looked over at Belesa.  “All is well.”

xxx

It was not until late that night that Belesa and Saxa found themselves alone for the first time since Saxa had battled in the midday sun, as they stumbled into their tent, their lips joined together as their tongues dueled; their faces flush with arousal and drink.

“Help remove pau … plau … stupid things from arms,” Saxa panted, her brows creasing in frustration as she tugged at the pauldron on her upper right arm, desperate to be naked with Belesa immediately, though her new armour continued to thwart her efforts towards that end.

“Pauldrons,” Belesa commented as she reached out for Saxa and attempted to untie the leather bands that secured the armour to Saxa.

“Care not.  Want gone,” Saxa replied, impeding Belesa’s efforts by trying to use her right hand to undo the ties on the left pauldron.

Belesa slapped her hand away and then held up a warning finger before Saxa’s face.

“Trust that my desire to rid you of clothes is as strong as your desire to be rid of them,” Belesa breathed out, “And leave me to my work,” she whispered, holding Saxa’s eyes intimately even has her hands worked, on the leather strips.

Belesa worked quickly and efficiently and within minutes Saxa was free of the pauldrons and her top.  Belesa’s hands moved next to tackle Saxa’s belt, but the German stopped her before she could begin her work.

“Cannot wait,” Saxa husked as she took hold of Belesa’s dress and began to hike it up around her waist. “Lay,” Saxa continued softly before pressing a series of hot, anxious kisses against Belesa’s throat.  “Undress later.”

Belesa lay herself down on the pile of furs that served as their makeshift bed, and Saxa lowered herself down on top of her then captured her lips in a deep, forceful kiss that soon had Belesa clutching at Saxa desperately as her cunt throbbed, already slick with desire.

Saxa’s hand trailed up Belesa’s thigh, and Belesa trembled, her eyes closing as her hips bucked, silently begging Saxa to move her hand higher still.

“You want?” Saxa asked, smiling mischievously down at Belesa as she skimmed her fingers along the length of Belesa’s sex, touching her where Belesa so desperately wanted her, but just barely, just teasing Belesa with what Saxa knew she really wanted.

“Yes,” Belesa breathed out, arching her hips, trying to force firmer contact between her throbbing cunt and Saxa’s fingers, but to no avail.

“What you want?  Tell.  Make words,” Saxa whispered, teasing Belesa’s entrance with her finger before pushing inside, just penetrating her before she pulled her finger out and went back to ghosting her fingers over Belesa’s warm, slick flesh.

Some women would have been hesitant to put their desires into words, but Belesa was not such a woman, which Saxa knew and greatly appreciated. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Belesa told Saxa, holding her eyes steadily.  “I want you to put your fingers inside of me, and claim me.  I want to _hear_ you taking me.  I want you to fuck me as if your life depends on making me come,” Belesa husked, gazing up into Saxa’s hungry green eyes. “And I want it now,” she finished, bucking her hips into Saxa’s body.

Saxa’s lips curved up into a wolfish smile as Belesa’s sultry gaze caressed her face.

“How would you have me fuck?” Saxa breathed out.

“Hard,” Belesa replied.  “And fast,” she purred, drawing a deep groan from Saxa in response.

“I am of mood,” Saxa warned. 

The day had been filled with blood, fighting, drink and strong emotions, which combined, as always, to fill her with an intense desire for rough and vigorous lovemaking.

“I know the mood you speak of, and I favour it,” Belesa breathed out, reassuring Saxa that all of her passions would be well received.  “Show me what a gladiatrix is capable of doing off of the sand.”

Though she had quite a vast and colourful vocabulary in German, Saxa’s Latin often let her down in terms of properly expressing her thoughts and feelings, so she let her actions speak for her instead.

Keeping her eyes locked on Belesa’s, Saxa began to move her hand again, teasing Belesa’s slick lower lips and the bud of her pleasure, building up her arousal to the state it had been at before they had broken words. 

Never looking away from Belesa’s heated gaze, Saxa played with her until Belesa’s breath began to come in pants, and her hips began undulate anxiously.  Then, with one smooth, forceful thrust, Saxa entered Belesa fully. 

Belesa gasped as Saxa’s fingers plunged inside of her, and though she was loath to lose eye contact with Saxa, she could not stop her eyes from closing as pleasure rolled over her, making her skin tingle and her heart pound.

Saxa used her knee to spread Belesa’s legs further apart.

“Open eyes,” Saxa commanded, her voice a low rumble as she continued to pump her fingers inside of Belesa steadily, yet indolently, waiting for Belesa to comply.

It took a few seconds, but finally Belesa was able to force her eyes open, and once their eyes met, Saxa entered Belesa with true intent, putting her entire body into the thrust, and Belesa cried out in pleasure.

A burst of white, hot, pulsing desire tore through Saxa at the sound of Belesa’s pleasure, and what restraint she had been holding onto vanished as water from a shallow pool under the heat of the midday sun. 

Moaning, Saxa pumped into Belesa again and again, throwing her entire body into the motion and Belesa gasped, and whimpered, and cried out beneath her, her hard nipples straining against the thin material of her dress as her breasts shook with the force of Saxa’s thrusts.

The scent of sex was heavy in the air and the tent was filled with the sound of damp flesh slapping against damp flesh, and of fingers plunging into abundant wetness, brushing against swollen, velvety walls, as Belesa’s dripping, eager cunt clenched at them, seeking to draw them further inside of her as if she would keep Saxa captive there forever.

Belesa’s hands gripped at Saxa’s flesh, desperately trying to find purchase as Saxa’s pace increased, her efforts gaining force and speed even as her breath began to fall in harsh pants. 

Belesa’s fingers clawed at Saxa’s ass, her nails digging into the firm, rounded flesh, and Saxa grunted in pleasure.

“Saxa!”

The name fell from Belesa’s lips like a plea and a prayer, begging and glorifying Saxa in the same breath.

She was close.

The knowledge spurred Saxa on. 

She wanted to see Belesa come.  She wanted to feel it.  She wanted to bring her dripping fingers up to mouth and taste her victory.

“Saxa!” 

The name fell from Belesa’s lips again and again in increasing succession until Belesa’s pleasure climbed so high it robbed her of the ability to form proper words.  

Saxa brought her thumb into play,  wielding it against Belesa’s engorged, throbbing clit, stroking it once, twice, three times … and then Belesa’s legs were locking around her, her thighs tensing powerfully as her inner-muscles squeezed, vice-like, around Saxa’s fingers, orgasm crashing into her violently as a wave breaking against rocks.

xxx

Saxa laughed softly as Belesa’s lips pressed a kiss to the skin above the sparse patch of blonde hair between her legs, and as Belesa continued to kiss her skin Saxa angled her body slightly to the side so that she could fetch the half empty jug of wine exhaustion had forced them to abandon drinking the night before.

“Drink wine before you suck me to death,” Saxa declared, shoving the jug down her body towards Belesa, who’s chin was still slick with the results of the orgasms she had been driving Saxa to since she had managed to get Saxa to stop fucking her for long enough to remove what was left of their clothes.

“But what a glorious way to go,” Belesa replied grinning, though she took pity on her exhausted warrior and kissed her way up Saxa’s body until they were lying side by side.  “Gratitude,” she continued once she was settled, reaching for the jug Saxa still held in her hand before taking a large gulp from it as Saxa watched her with a fond smile on her lips.

“This mouth should be named deadly weapon,” Saxa breathed out as Belesa’s tongue ran over her bottom lip, capturing an errant drop of wine that threatened to fall from it.  “I survive legions of Romans, spears, swords, knives and hammers.  But I fall to this,” Saxa continued, drawing her thumb over Belesa’s plump bottom lip, “helpless against its might,” she breathed out, making Belesa smile 

“Know its owner stands equally helpless in the face of her warrior’s considerable talents,” Belesa replied, pressing a kiss to Saxa’s cheek before she leaned to the side, setting the jug of wine on the sand beside the furs that made composed their bed.  “In battle, stand bloody and bold, bringer of pain and death to all who oppose you.  But in our bed, I would always have you fall to most pleasurable defeat,” she declared softly as she cuddled herself against Saxa’s side.

Saxa nuzzled her face into Belesa’s hair.

“I pray our bed to be the only place I fall for long time to come,” Saxa breathed out, flexing her arm around Belesa, unconsciously trying to hold the brunette even closer to her.

“Then our prayers are the same,” Belesa replied, pressing her lips to the soft skin above Saxa’s heart.

“You pray I live?” Saxa asked softly.

“Of course I do,” Belesa replied, struggling in Saxa’s arms a little until she was able to prop herself up so that she could look down at her lover.  “You are more than pretty face and warm body to me.  My heart yearns for you,” Belesa continued, pressing her hand above her heart as her eyes began to shimmer with tears.  “My mind fills with thoughts of you at all times of day.  When you smile, I smile.  When you hurt, my heart aches in concert.  It is … it is deepest desire, to see your golden hair streaked with grey, to witness flawless skin become lined with age, both signs of a long life lived,” she went on passionately.

Belesa’s eyes shone with emotion for a few seconds after she finished speaking, then they widened suddenly, a look of panic entering them for fraction of a second before it was replaced by a flash of sadness and then nothing as she averted her eyes from Saxa, hiding all the feelings they threatened to reveal from Saxa’s watchful green eyes. 

“I know,” Belesa began a moment later, her eyes still averted, “that you … await another’s return to your bed, but I would still pray for you,” she continued, her voice rougher and a bit choked though her words remained clear and certain.  “Even if I am not at your side, I would have you live … for years to come, because you are good, and honest, and fierce, and brave, and this world is a better place with you in it,” Belesa finished, looking up to meet Saxa’s eyes briefly, before she stiffly settled herself against Saxa’s side again.

“Belesa,” Saxa breathed out, and she felt the woman’s body tense against her side.  “I am sorry,” Saxa breathed out, Belesa’s reaction to the sound of her voice paining her deeply.

Belesa made a soft sound in her throat and shrugged her shoulders bravely though her heart was cracking and threatening to break.

“I am used to being a pretty face and a warm body,” Belesa murmured.  “I but stay what I have always been.  You do not need to apologize.  We cannot control what we feel or who we feel it for, and … whatever I may be to you … you have been good to me.”

“That is not my meaning,” Saxa whispered intensely, and this time it was her turn to shift and shimmy so that she was able to see Belesa’s face.  “Please look,” she asked gently when Belesa refused to look over at her.  “Belesa,” she said pleadingly, and reluctantly Belesa turned to face her.  “My words are not good like yours, but I try,” Saxa continued, sounding frustrated but looking determined as she focused her gaze on Belesa’s. 

“I wait no more for Gannicus return,” Saxa stated firmly.  “Once it was so,” she admitted, looking down as the shameful words fell from her lips, “but no longer.  My eyes look for you in crowds and heart feels full when they find you.  When marching to battle, as I lay alone, mind thinks of you for comfort and to not feel lonely or fear. 

“You are more than pretty face and warm body.  You are reason not to die glorious in battle but to live and see old age, a thing I never thought to want. Old dream was, fight, kill Romans, die spilling blood, feast with fallen brothers and sisters in the afterlife.  New dream is, see you streaked with grey, sleep with you in true bed, in home, fire burning with wood chopped by these hands … maybe with dog sleeping by bedroom door. 

“I am sorry,” Saxa repeated, “for not saying these words before.  For not making it so you know my world is better with you, for not making known I would have just you.”

She tried not to, she really did, but it was no use fighting her tears in the wake of such sweet words, and as Belesa gazed up at Saxa warm, salty drops began to rain down on her cheeks. 

Saxa reached out to wipe the tears away with her thumb, but when more soon replaced it, she realized that it was a wasted effort and simply drew Belesa into her body, wrapping her arms around her securely as Belesa buried her face in her neck, wetting Saxa’s skin with her tears.

“Apologies,” Belesa whispered a short while later, once she had gotten herself back under control.  “I did not mean to greet such treasured words with tears.  I simply … as a slave, you learn not to expect love and eventually you cease to even dream of it.  Especially with tastes such as mine,” Belesa continued, her eyes dropping down to appreciatively take in the sight of Saxa’s breasts.  

She had performed the tasks she was commanded to, but her true passion had always been with those who stood as she did, with women, and she had realized at a young age that in matters of the heart the road she traveled would be a lonely one. 

“Standing as I do, even the slim possibility of faithful service to my house being rewarded with marriage was beyond me, for no Roman would gift a female slave with a wife.”

“More reason to kill them,” Saxa declared in response, and despite the seriousness of the discussion they had been having, Belesa’s lips curved up into a smile, and she laughed.

“Once the blush of girlhood left me, and I understood the world and where I stood in it, I did not dare to dream.  But if I had, my dream would have been you, and this,” Belesa breathed out softly, looking around their small tent and at their meager possessions, but meaning every word about it being her dream, because while they didn’t have much, they were free and they were together.  “I never expected to have any true happiness in this life, but you have given me that, and continue to and when I thought about that … I don’t … I don’t know why it would make me cry but …”

“Tears come from joy as well as sad,” Saxa interjected softly, wiping Belesa’s tears away with her thumb once more, now that Belesa was no longer shedding more of them.  “You shed more when we go east, towards Rhine and find my people.  We cry and drink and sing and live like married.  Agron and Nasir can have farm beside us,” she added, making Belesa laugh.  “You learn German then, and I sound like poet and you like idiot child,” Saxa went on, making Belesa laugh even more.

“You do not sound as idiot child,” Belesa assured her a minute later, kissing Saxa’s jaw when she released a disbelieving sound from her throat.  “I like the way you form words,” she continued, kissing Saxa again.  “You wield them with purpose.  They are clear in intent, like the woman who breaks them, not the flowery phrases dispatched by Romans to manipulate and obscure true intent.”

Saxa looked down at Belesa curiously, contemplating whether or not to ask the question that had come to her mind.

“You speak harshly of Roman tongue, yet you speak like flower, as Roman,” Saxa finally said, careful to keep her tone open and curious so that Belesa would not take her words as an insult.

“As most house slaves come to,” Belesa sighed.  “Our well-being depends on pleasing our…”

“Depended,” Saxa interjected firmly, running her hand soothingly down Belesa’s back. 

“Yes,” Belesa said with a smile, “depended.  Our well-being depended on pleasing our Dominus and Domina.  We learned to be light of foot, soft of voice, unobtrusive of presence, and to mirror their speech so that we would not offend their sensibilities or the sensibilities of honored guests.”

Saxa made an unkind sound in her throat and then muttered something in German, and Belesa smiled, touched by how incensed Saxa was on her behalf.

“Well,” Saxa finally said in a tongue Belesa could understand, “you need not be fucking proper with me,” she declared, before smiling widely. 

“That I know,” Belesa replied, smirking as she reached out and squeezed Saxa’s nipple hard enough to make the blonde’s eyelashes flutter as she sucked in a deep breath.  “In fact, the more improper the fucking, the better,” she purred.

“Careful, little girl,” Saxa said, catching Belesa’s hand as the brunette started to give her nipple a twist. 

“What if I don’t want to be?” Belesa sassed, smiling at Saxa as she tried to move her hand to assault Saxa’s nipple again.

“I will have to teach lesson to bad girl, show her what happen when she not listen to her woman,” Saxa said lowly as gazed at Belesa with predatory menace.

“Appearance is formidable, but your words miss their mark,” Belesa began breathily.  “The possibility of such a lesson does not encourage obedient behavior only increases desire for further rebellion.  Only makes me _ache_ to learn all that you can teach,” she said closing the small distance between them to press her lips against Saxa’s.

“The hour is late,” Saxa whispered against Belesa’s lips, even as her hands tugged the brunette against her. 

“Then let us not delay,” Belesa replied, sliding her foot up Saxa’s calf suggestively.  “The time we have together before you march grows less and less.  I would make the most of these nights that I have you with me.”

“Then our thoughts are same in this,” Saxa breathed out.  “Bad girl,” she drawled wickedly a moment later, tugging Belesa who laughed and then began to struggle against her, even though they both knew she wanted her ‘punishment’.  “There,” Saxa said with satisfaction a minute later, having successfully maneuvered Belesa onto her lap despite her lover’s squirming.

She ran her hand up along the back of Belesa’s nude thigh and then she rested her hand possessively on the gentle curve of Belesa’s bottom.

“You truly are a barbarian,” Belesa declared petulantly, almost managing to keep herself from smiling, though her lips turned up slightly at the end.

Saxa growled menacingly in response to her words, and at that, Belesa could not help but smile.

“If this is how you discipline, you are going to have the most disobedient woman of all of the warriors in rebel camp … possibly in all of Latium,” Belesa murmured a few moments later, wiggling in Saxa’s lap.

“Cheeky,” Saxa muttered, and then she brought her hand down on Belesa’s bottom. 

The contact surprised Belesa and she gasped as Saxa’s hand impacted her flesh then moaned as the pleasant sting Saxa’s hand left behind coursed through her body.

“Now we see if Sandraudiga can make bad girl’s ass red as the sand,” Saxa husked, and a smile to match the one on Saxa’s lips touched Belesa’s lips as Saxa brought her hand down once again.

Beyond the walls of their tent voices shouted in the distance and the sound of drunken singing floated to them on the wind.  In the tents around them, the celebration wore on, the sounds of laugher and breaking jugs and pleasure being taken resounding in the air.  Belesa’s sighs and moans soon became part of the cacophony of noises that composed the rebel camp as she and Saxa once again joined the others in celebrating life and freedom, in savoring everything that they could, while they yet held it in their grasp.

 

The End


End file.
